


College Days {Soon to be Reposted: Revised and Rejuvenated}

by RebelxPen



Series: For Science [1]
Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Jane's Parents - Freeform, Original Character Death(s), Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-02-25 18:17:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2631548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelxPen/pseuds/RebelxPen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revising, reposting, and continuing! Updates to come more regularly! Thanks for all the encouraging notes and requests for more!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stars go out.

It was Senior year. The end was so close she could taste it, but with midterms crowding in from every side, all Jane Foster tasted was the bitter threat of failure. Out of her almost four years at Culver, this one had easily been the most difficult, and she had started her Freshman year at fifteen years old. In all that time, Jane had battled the prejudice of professors who believed a kid had no place enrolled full time in college; the bullying of students who felt threatened by a kid doing work that was stumping them at three plus years her seniors.

It was common for Jane to hear some smart mouth guy ask questions like, “Where’s your babysitter, kid?”

To which she would inevitably reply with something like, “Probably screwing your dad.”

The sass didn’t help her make any friends, but it eventually made people stop talking to her much in general; and frankly, it didn’t bother her. She wasn’t there to make friends. She was there to learn, and with the workload of a double major, she had no time for friends. Out of the entire school, there were really only three people she spoke with and that was her academic advisor, Dr. Steven Nichols, and her favorite professor, Dr. Allen Rivers. Everybody else mostly left her to her own space and head.

Most of the students seemed to be the spoiled rich kind, anyway; the kind that were only at Culver to continue the family tradition, but not Jane. Jane was the product of two fiercely driven parents one of which, her father, studied physics—specifically astrophysics—and the other, her mother, studied history and cultural anthropology. They ingrained their love of learning into Jane. They made learning fun, taking her out of school for long trips where she would study cultures alongside her mother by day, and study the sky with her father by night. Jane’s parents were her world and with all the troubles she had conquered at school, homesickness was one she didn’t think she’d ever manage to overcome.

The only way she survived was with a daily call (or three during exam weeks like this one) home.

“I never should have double majored. It was a horrible idea, mom. I’m dying.”

“You knew what you were getting into, Janie, and we warned you it would be a lot of work,” her mother’s voice came through the phone amused and warm, if muffled.

“I said—“ Jane smiled, rolling her eyes at the way she knew her mother had that phone pressed between her cheek and her shoulder, but before she could finish speaking, her mom interrupted, her voice almost identical to Jane’s.

“You said, and I quote: ’It’s fine! Don’t worry! It’s just a little extra work, an extra paper or two. I’ve got this.’ That’s what you said.”

“Well! I was young and stupid! Why did you listen to me?” Through the phone, Jane could hear a spoon hitting against the sides of a bowl and her ears perked, letting it distract her from her whining. “Wait—Are you baking?”

Her mom laughed, “I am,” she said. “Are you doing your homework? How’s that major project going? The one you have to send off to a person in the field of work you’re aiming for?”

Jane huffed and flopped back on her bed. “Mom!”

“Jane!”

She growled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to send it to just anybody. I want it to count.”

“So make it count.”

“The only person I can think would be worth it is impossible to reach.” Jane was full aware of the tone in her voice, and even to her own ears, it sounded like an excuse.

“Natalie Jane Foster.”

“—Oh, boy.”

The mom tone was on; Jane hated the mom tone. “What have we taught you about that word?”

Jane sighed, “It doesn’t exist…”

“I beg your pardon?”

Sitting up, Jane rolled her eyes, almost afraid her mother could sense it over the phone, but she sat a little straighter and braced herself to recite the quote she had heard all her life. “It always seems impossible until it’s done.”

“That’s right.” She couldn’t help smiling at her that smug edge to her mom’s voice. “Now. Stop being lazy and do what you know you need to do. All right?” The spoon took up its task again, stirring whatever her mother was making that Jane’s mouth watered over. “I’m proud of you, and I’ll see you for Winter Break, all right?”

“Yes, ma’am. I love you, too,” smiling, Jane leaned into the phone a little more—as if it would let her reach through and hug the woman on the other side. “Love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart. Now go get an A.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell Dad I said hi.”

“I will. Night, sweetie.”

“Night.”

Jane hung up the phone and groaned, flopping back to stare up at her bedroom ceiling. Laying there, her mind worked over her options, trying to decide if one “A” was worth the risk of possibly being arrested for invasion of privacy, or breaking and entering. Could hacking a network be considered breaking and entering? She sighed and sat up, reaching for her laptop and the power cord to pack it up in her bag with the rest of her homework. If all else failed, she could study at a coffee shop and prepare for her exams later that week.

The air was crisp as she made her way across campus to the little all night cafe, the stars shining down and lighting the grounds. Jane hugged herself against the chill, staring up at the constellations as she walked. As she suspected, it was fairly crowded, and more than one pair of eyes turned their scowl from the page of the book between their arms on the table, to Jane as she wandered in and made an order at the counter. She met their stares without flinching, staring back at them until they looked away and Jane found a seat. The chime of her laptop made her heart beat a little faster as she prepared herself for work. She was gifted in engineering, gifted with computers, and many people underestimated her, but now was her chance to make a statement. Nobody had Tony Stark’s personal email, and the email sitting in her saved folder right now from one of his many assistants said it could take weeks for him to sift through the many projects people sent in to him daily.

There was no guarantee he would see it at all, and Jane needed feedback by the end of the semester. She had one choice: Hack in and find his personal email—send it directly to his own eyes in a way that would be impossible to ignore. Appeal to the very obvious ego he displayed all over the media. Cracking her knuckles, and taking a sip of her coffee, Jane dipped her biscotti in the hot liquid and took a bite, holding it between her teeth as she began.

It was easier than she expected. Apparently assistants as small as this one didn’t require any extreme security, but it was enough to give Jane a toe in the door and not long after, she’d found what she was looking for.

“Yes!”

All eyes turned to look as she leapt to her feet, and with a blush, Jane eased back down again and took a bracing breath through a grin before quickly typing out the message she had written a thousand times over in her mind.

To: bossman@stark.com  
From: scienceandstardust@aol.com  
Subject: Gotcha

  
Mr. Stark,

My name is Jane Foster, and I’m in the middle of my Senior year of college at Culver University. My father is Dr. Thomas Foster, Professor of Astrophysics, and my mother is Dr. Lora Foster, Professor of Anthropology at the University of New York.

I know I should apologize for hacking your network like this, but I won’t, because I don’t think you’d apologize for something like that—especially if you had something to share like I do. Attached, you’ll find a file with a project proposal that I’ve been developing since high school and continued to hone here in college. In order to complete my grade for this class, I’m required to send it to someone who has already excelled in my field of interest.

I couldn’t think of anyone better than you. I have no back up plans, and my entire college career is riding on this project. If you want to be impressed, I’d recommend you take a look and shoot me your thoughts.

You can reach me at this email address. I’m also available for offering tips on better network security if you need them.

Your fan, and soon to be colleague,

Jane

P.S. Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.

Days after emailing her project to Tony Stark, she was coming out of a particularly horrendous three hour test, slinging her bag over her shoulders and slipping her hands into her pockets on her way to the door when her professor stopped her. Jane hated studying. She hated tests. She hated them, but she loved to learn, and so when the time came to study she did it obsessively. She wallpapered her room with notes, graphs, and post-its; it didn’t matter, Jane never felt like she had enough time, or enough brain power to be confident on any exam. This one was no different.

"Miss Foster?" he called, his voice that dull monotone that was better than any lullaby.

  
Jane turned, forcing her face not to cringe, but smile instead. “Yeah, Dr. Rivers? Problem?”

Dr. Rivers passed her the paper in his hand, “You forgot to sign your name. I’m afraid doodles of the Orion Constellation don’t count.”

Jane let the cringe come freely then, smiling sheepishly as she quickly scrolled her name among the stars she had drawn at the top of the page. “Sorry, sir. Thanks for calling me back.”

"Not a problem. Although, I don’t know how you can do so well and be so scatterbrained."

It was a tease, and Jane just shrugged and smirked.

"It kind of runs in the family. I get it from my mom. Is that all? I’m going to grab a quick slice of pizza before my next exam," she said, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder at the door as she backed away.

He nodded and waved her off. “Go on, but that grease will clog your arteries before it frees any brain cells,” he said. “Oh, and don’t forget you’re supposed to have that project proposal sent out to someone in the career of your choice, or the nearest thing to it, and it can’t be family. This is about standing on your own merit. Attach a copy of the project to me once you’ve had it sent off.”

Jane nodded and waved, “Way ahead of you, sir. I sent the project out earlier this week. I’ll send you a copy of the email and file attachment while I’m at lunch.” She had a few finishing touches to put in place, but everything on her schedule was about two weeks ahead. She had Thanksgiving at home, and she didn’t want to deal with homework or deadlines during that time.

Backing into the hall, Jane turned on her heel and gripped the strap of her messenger bag, tucking her hair behind her ear with one hand. The school was a ghost house during exams: everyone burrowed into their books or study rooms, camping in the library. It was great, because there were rarely lines in the cafeteria, which meant more food, and faster. She was halfway there when the Dean of Academics, the school counselor, and Jane’s academic advisor turned the corner and started walking toward her.

Something about their gait, the tension in their shoulders, the heavy, grim set of their mouths that made her breath catch in her throat. Jane didn’t know why, but her stomach churned and sank, and suddenly she wasn’t very hungry anymore.  
Her hands twisted around the strap in her grip, tight and nervous as she swallowed. She was small, barely five feet even, and a hundred pounds soaking wet. She had made an art of slipping through crowds, and she fully intended to slip right between the shoulders of the Dean and Dr. Nichols—but they stopped her first, the two men, and the female counselor blocking her path.

Jane felt her throat closing up and her skin going cold, inexplicably afraid. “Is…Is there a problem? I was just going to get lunch. I just finished an exam… Is this about the coffee pot in my room? I’d keep it in the kitchen, but the girl in 104 keeps making ramen in it.”

Please let it be about the coffee pot.

The three officials traded glances, but it was Dr. Nichols, her advisor, who spoke, stepping forward and placing a hand on Jane’s shoulder. “It’s not about the coffee pot, Jane. We need you to come with us; we have some news you need to hear, privately.”

Jane felt sick. She didn’t want him touching her, but she was too paralyzed to pull away. “No…” she shook her head, her voice sounding hollow in her own ears. “…No, just tell me here. Did I bomb a test, or something?”

She wouldn’t move. If she didn’t go with them, didn’t let them take her somewhere private, they wouldn’t tell her; it wouldn’t be real. “I really need to go get my lunch. I have another exam in half an hour.”

The Dean spoke up this time, shaking his head sympathetically, pity bleeding from his eyes. “I’ve taken the liberty of pushing the rest of your exams back, Miss Foster. Your professors have all been notified.”

Her breathing quickened and Jane backed herself against the wall, flattening against it as her eyes widened and shook her head. “No. I have to take them, I have to go home for break next weekend.”

"Miss Foster—Jane,” The lady spoke, the counselor, and Jane hated her instantly. That voice, that soothing voice wasnothing but the assurance that things would be handled properly, and Jane didn’t want to hear it.

"No! You can tell me now, or let me go to lunch, but you can’t hold me hostage like this. This is harassment…" Her voice sounded far less in control than she wanted it to. It shook and it trembled and Jane literally felt the color draining from her face as Dr. Nichols came over and put that heavy hand on her shoulder again.

There was no way around it. He had to tell her, and he was about to, but Jane shook her head, eyes pleading with him to just go away and not say it.

"Jane, I’m sorry, but there has been word that there was an accident at your home. A gas leak—"

She felt frozen.

"Jane, I’m sorry, but your parents were both killed."

It was a joke, it had to be, and Jane laughed, a mirthless sound as her knuckles went white around the strap of her bag. Who had gas leaks anymore? It was something out of a movie. Some last year hazing before she graduated.

"No.” The tears that wouldn’t fall were thick in her voice and Jane’s throat tightened painfully. She shook her head, her pulse pounding against her throat. The laughter was gone. “No, you’re lying. We don’t…they can’t be…" Her vision spun.

The counselor stepped forward but Jane flinched away, tensing and jabbing a finger in her direction as though sending a dog away from the table for begging. “No!”

"It’s not true!" People were beginning to stare; Dr. Rivers had heard the commotion and come out of his classroom, white bearded face full of concern. "They’re not dead! I just spoke to my mom yesterday! We’re going on vacation! We’re going to have Thanksgiving together! Dad had a new research project!”

She was dissolving before their eyes. The longer she stood there, the more her tears blinded her, her chest heaving with sobbing breaths as her back hit the wall again. She shook, her tiny frame trembling violently as she slid down, breaking apart in one steady avalanche of emotion.

Dr. Nichols stepped closer, began to kneel down beside her but Jane flinched and tensed away from him again. “Get away from me!” she screamed. “They’re not dead! They’re not…they’re not…”

"Miss Foster, we’ve taken the liberty of calling Dr. Erik Selvig—he’s on your file as your next of kin, or an emergency contact. He’s flying in today from Oregon. We’re deeply sorry…"

Jane barely heard a word; she could only stare up at her professor, brown eyes drowning in tears, and mutter, “It’s not true…”

But it was, and there was no escaping it. Erik arrived later that afternoon and within days, they’d planned a humble little memorial. It was a grim affair, but then, what else would it be? Along the walls of the funeral home were pictures of the work her parents had done in their lifetimes. Grand scales of her father’s mathematical equations and star charts wallpapered the left side of the room, while pictures of her mother and various cultures she had met with spanned the right.

Jane felt numb, standing at the doorway to the viewing room, greeting the guests that came to pay their last respects. Each person shook her hand, offered their condolences and some small story of how they knew her parents, but she neither heard nor felt any of it. She simply stood beside Erik, nodding her head, and offering whatever she could muster of a grateful smile.

"Thank you for coming."

Her jaw ached from being clenched tightly between visitors. There were no bodies, only two silver urns at the back of the room beneath two large portraits. Jane hadn’t been back—she hadn’t been any further than the threshold of the room, but she didn’t need to. She knew her parents’ work, and she knew her parents, and those urns were nothing but empty containers. Her exams were forgotten, her email to Tony Stark didn’t matter. All Jane knew for certain now was that she had no idea what to do.


	2. Updates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About the future of this fic.

This piece has received so many great messages, comments, and feedback, and I appreciate it all so much! It really makes my day to know people enjoy this first chapter even though it's a great big ball of angst and drama. That being said: This piece has been stuck in stasis for so long because it was originally meant to be a co-authored piece, but as of some recent events, that simply isn't going to happen anymore. 

In order to continue this story to the potential I've always wanted to see it reach, I will be reposting College Days and writing it myself. I have a pretty detailed outline that leads Jane through her college days, through grieving her parents, and into finding her own identity and eventually meeting Thor. I hope to have at least six chapters completed by the end of the summer, and I really hope you all enjoy them, and stick with me as I tackle this character again. 

I really love Jane, and I've always wanted to explore her in an in depth fic. I look forward to sharing that with you :)

**Author's Note:**

> See author's profile for more chapters in the new and improved, reposted version of this fic!


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